


Janto and the Coffee Thing

by JB Harris (LizAna)



Series: The Janto Files [19]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Episode: s01e09 Random Shoes, M/M, Shameless Smut, What Happened After, coffee fetish, janto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 02:58:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15654348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizAna/pseuds/JB%20Harris
Summary: Jack asks Ianto to make coffee but his intentions are not as innocent as they might seem...





	Janto and the Coffee Thing

Ianto emerged from the lower levels to find everyone except Gwen had gone home while he’d been down feeding Janet and the other current vault residents.

She and Jack were standing by the cog wheel door, Gwen talking, eyes red-rimmed while Jack nodded in understanding, a comforting hand on her shoulder. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it had to be something to do with Eugene and the rather surprising development that afternoon when his ghost had apparently rescued her from being hit by a car.

One more weird event he could add to the ever-growing list of unbelievable things he’d seen and learned working for Torchwood. Ghosts, cannibals and the walking undead in Suzie. It had been an eventful few months to say the least.

Ianto discreetly began his end-of-day cleaning routine, staying well in the background lest he get drawn into the conversation. He wasn’t trying to be terrible to Gwen, but she hadn’t cared about Eugene when he’d been alive. In fact, several times he’d heard her and Owen making jokes about him. Now she was acting like she’d lost a dear friend. Probably some of that came down to guilt, he guessed—that Eugene really had been onto something, yet Gwen had dismissed him as some kind of Torchwood groupie. Other than dealing with Gwen’s attack of conscious, he also didn’t need to hear for the tenth time about how _he just came out of nowhere_ and _I’d be dead if it wasn’t for him!_

He sighed as he wiped the coffee ring off Owen’s desk. Maybe he was being unfair on Gwen. Problem was, he’d been feeling a little on edge the past few days. Beside Eugene and his Dogon Sixth Eye, there’d been a spate of restless weevils and several rift spikes that’d required investigating. They’d all been busy, which had meant the entire team had been in and out of the hub at all kinds of odd hours and consequently, he and Jack hadn’t been alone for more than a few minutes at a time. He supposed he could have asked Jack back to his the night before when he’d gone home and grabbed a whole three hours sleep, but he’d barely had enough energy to undress, let alone anything requiring more stamina.

The real problem was Jack and those bloody pheromones. He swore if the man didn’t smell so good, if the scent didn’t remind him of being naked and strung-out with pleasure, then working with the boss he also happened to be shagging wouldn’t have been such an issue.

Instead, he was becoming increasingly agitated, especially whenever he got close enough to smell Jack with his unique and too-bloody-temping scent. A wank in the shower that morning had been disappointingly unhelpful and extremely unsatisfying. He knew exactly what would take the edge off and it came in a package of warm blue eyes, suggestive grins and unrepentant flirting with everything that breathed.

The cog wheel door sounded and Ianto glanced up from where he’d moved on to Tosh’s workstation. Jack jogged up the steps, left hand in his pocket and right hand tossing something up and down in the air. The Dogon Eye, he recognised, as Jack strolled closer.

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of these things causing anything like the little situation we ended up with today. Gwen nearly took my head off when I told her we needed to retcon all the guests at the wake who’d seen Eugene.”

“Yes, I imagine she did have a strong opinion on that, sir,” he agreed, keeping his concentration on his tidying and not Jack now idly leaning against Owen’s clean workstation with a speculative gleam in his gaze.

“You’ve been avoiding me today,” Jack suddenly said, crossing his arms.

He froze for a fraction of a second and then continued with the cleaning, hoping Jack hadn’t noticed.

“Been busy, that’s all.”

“No,” Jack drew out the word, pushing off from Owen’s workstation and stepping closer. “You’ve definitely been avoiding me. I’ve seen you everywhere today except within a five-foot radius of me. What gives?”

He swallowed down the automatic and probably defensive-sounding _nothing_ that sprang to his tongue and gave up on the pretence of cleaning. Except what the hell was he supposed to say to that? He couldn’t exactly tell Jack being around him was near impossible because he was craving—

He swallowed, feeling his face getting warm. Jack studied him and then some kind of knowing gleam seemed to creep into his gaze.

“You ever see a Dogon Sixth Eye back at Torchwood One?” Jack asked, surprising him with the change in topic.

He cleared his throat and forced his thoughts onto clearly safer topics. “We had a few stored in the archives, yes.”

“Ever use one?” Jack stepped closer, rolling the eye in his palm.

“No, can’t say I did,” he replied, starting to get suspicious about where this was heading.

“You know what they’re used for, though, right?” Jack had stopped close enough that Ianto’s next breath was nothing but pheromones, making his entire body clench.

“Supposedly the user can use it to look back on their life,” he replied, holding on to the recall of facts he’d read as a last defence against the growing need to grab Jack, rip off all his clothes and throw him against the nearest stable surface—horizontal or vertical, he really wasn’t fussy.

“And if you’ve got basic psychic training, then they’re not that hard to control. You can recall specific memories and sometimes even share them.”

“Sounds fascinating,” he uttered, distracted by calculating how many steps there was between Jack and the couch and how many clothes they might be able to shed by the time they reached it.

“Fancy a demonstration?” Jack reached down and took his hand.

“What—” He didn’t know what he’d been going to say but it got snatched away as Jack closed his hand over the Dogon Eye so that it was pressed between their palms. It immediately warmed and then— Then the sensation was impossible to describe. It was somewhere between falling and sinking. He closed his eyes at the rush, sucking in a breath as he grappled for some kind of mental balance. Except then everything settled as a memory overtook him like he was living it all over again.

It was the night he’d propositioned Jack with the stopwatch, after the debacle with Suzie. They’d teased each other mercilessly, taking turns to bring one another to the edge in a variety of creative ways—getting lube nearly everywhere between them—and then pulling back at the last second, denying release.

He’d broken first, and with barely a thought, he’d pinned Jack underneath him and thrust into him. Every other time they’d been together, Jack had taken him. When he’d found himself buried in the tight heat of Jack’s willing body, it’d been a baptism of pure, heedless rapture. He’d lasted barely a minute and probably would have died of embarrassment after if it hadn’t been for the fact that Jack had come almost as soon as he’d sunk into him.

A shudder rocked him at the echo of pleasure, then the memory shifted, twisted, and suddenly he was seeing himself; seeing the memory from Jack’s point of view. At first it was uncomfortably strange witnessing himself in the throes of passion, until Jack’s feelings washed over him and then it became an entirely new experience. Jack felt things so acutely. There was a freedom in Jack’s affection, in the exchange of touch, in the sharing of pleasure that Ianto had never experienced himself. As much as he could let go in the moment, there was always a level of confinement he hadn’t even realised was placed around him until now—a construction he now understood through Jack’s view of the social, cultural and religious influences of the 21st century that were completely absent from Jack’s own upbringing.

The memory faded and Ianto had the weird sensation of surfacing, almost like coming up from water. He gulped a breath and probably would have fallen flat on his face if it hadn’t been for Jack still holding his hand and catching his shoulder in a steadying grip.

“Whoa. Easy, there. Takes a bit of getting used to.”

He focused on Jack in front of him and took in the smug grin. “You could have warned me.”

It felt like his whole body was on fire and he was having some serious swelling issues that were definitely ruining the line of his trousers.

“And take the surprise out of it?” Jack laughed and set the Dogon Eye aside. “So, wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me now?”

He eyed Jack’s expression and took a calculated guess. “You already know.”

Jack’s grin widened. “Yeah, but I still want to hear you say it.”

“Fine. I’ve been avoiding you because you smell terrible. Didn’t want to say anything, though; worried I might hurt your feelings.”

Jack laughed again and shook his head. “Watch it, or I’ll have to come up with a way to punish you.”

He _did not_ shudder at the idea of Jack punishing him. Definitely not.

Jack tilted his head. “Coffee?”

“Now?” Coffee wasn’t what he thought Jack was going to ask for. Usually coffee came after.

Jack shrugged carelessly, but there was a scheming gleam in his gaze. “I’m in the mood for coffee.”

Jack was definitely up to something, he just couldn’t figure out what that _something_ might be, and what it was going to mean for him.  

“I’ll bring it up to your office, then, shall I?”

“How about I come keep you company while you make it?”

Oh yes, he was definitely up to something. Ianto nodded and beelined for the kitchenette, Jack trailing after him. As he stopped in front of the counter and got down two mugs, he could practically feel Jack watching him.

“The usual?” he asked, the tension getting to him far too easily.

“Sounds good.” Jack shifted in behind him and set his hand on his hips. Ianto went still when he felt the very obvious, hard evidence of Jack’s desire pressing into his lower back.

“Go ahead,” Jack murmured in his ear. “Make coffee.”

A heated thrill coursed through his body as he slowly reached for the coffee beans. Jack slid his hands forward to his belt buckle. Ianto paused, which caused Jack to stop as well. Pulse picking up speed, he began measuring out the beans for the grinder while Jack resumed unbuckling his belt. By the time the automatic grinder started up, Jack had his trousers undone. When he stopped to wait for the beans to become grounds, Jack frustratingly paused again as well.

Ah. Now he could see the game. As long as his hands were busy making coffee, then Jack was going to keep his hands busy as well.

He reached over and pulled the mugs closer, arranging them on the tray and concentrating on not fumbling when Jack slid his hand into his pants and wrapped a fist around his cock. As Jack started lazily stoking him, he had to pause to take a breath as sensation swamped him. But of course that had the result of Jack stopping too.

He clenched his jaw on a curse and checked the grinder, then readied the brewing head and filter, all the while Jack fondled him with frustratingly measured strokes. As he went to put the grounds in the filter, however, Jack started using his other hand to push his trousers down, completely freeing him and exposing his backside to Jack’s now groping hand.

He hesitated, wondering if he was going to be able to get the grounds into the filter without spilling half of them on the bench, and predictably Jack stopped again, but this time took his hands off him completely. However, it gave him back a measure of control, leaving him a little steadier. He quickly dumped the grounds into the filter, pre-empting Jack’s next move.

Jack laughed low and sexy in his ear as his fingers lightly brushed him—his slicked fingers—apparently Jack had taken his pause to prepare. As he fitted the filter head to the coffee machine—it took him three tries—Jack pressed a finger into him, and it required every ounce of self-control he had not to react, not to clamp his hands on the edge of the bench and push greedily back on Jack’s hand. He got the feeling if he did that, Jack would simply stop again and wait until he got back to making the coffee.

Frustration mounting, he positioned the espresso cups under the twin spouts and turned on the hot water to dribble through. Jack added a second finger and thankfully didn’t stop when he paused to watch the espresso cup gradually fill, the familiar scent of coffee mixing with the strengthening, alluring scent of Jack’s pheromones. His eyes slid closed and shifted, widening his stance slightly, letting the pleasure overwhelm him for a moment.

“Concentrate.” Jack murmured the admonishment in a teasing voice. “Don’t want to ruin the coffee.”

He forced his eyes open and glanced down to gauge how the cups were filling, breath catching as Jack withdrew his fingers. The empty feeling didn’t last long, however, as Jack’s erection immediately pressed into him. He exhaled in relief, sinking into the sensation of Jack slowly filling him, even as the coffee in the espresso cups crept toward the top. He hurriedly reached up and turned off the hot water and then dropped his hands to the bench, bracing himself and waiting—on edge and too tight all over—for Jack to stop teasing him and get on with things.

Jack, however, had stopped again; buried as deep inside him as he could get, but perfectly still.

“Coffee ready?” Jack enquired in the same casual voice he’d use at any other time on any other day, no tremor or catch to indicate this was affecting him in the least. _Bastard_. He shoved back, gratified at Jack’s sudden sharp intake of breath.

In retaliation, Jack pinched his arse.

“Finish the coffee,” Jack ordered, and this time his voice was a little uneven.

He clenched his teeth and reached forward to pick up one of the espresso cups. Jack started to draw back and then slowly pushed forward again and it was all Ianto could do not to slosh the hot liquid.

“If I end up burned, you get to explain to Owen what happened when he has to dress my wounds.”

Jack gave a breathless laugh. “You really want me to tell Owen how long I’ve been fantasising about shagging you against the coffee machine and it ended in a trip to the A&E?”

He had to put the espresso cup down again so he could glance over his shoulder at Jack.

“You’ve thought about this before?” He’d assumed it’d been one of Jack’s spur-of-the-moment ideas.

“Oh yeah,” Jack practically purred. “You have no idea how many times I imagined doing this to you while you made coffee.”

Oh God. Trust Jack bloody Harkness to make something like coffee preparation erotic.

“And how did these fantasies usually end?” he asked, voice low and rough.

Jack’s blue gaze darkened and this time when he drew back and thrust forward, he was far less gentle about it.

A lightning bolt of pleasure arced through him and he bit back a groan. He gave up on pretending to care about the coffee and gripped the edge of the bench, adjusting the angle of his hips to take Jack deeper.

Jack moaned, his hands tightening convulsively on his hips. Ianto allowed himself a quick grin over giving Jack a dose of his own medicine, except then Jack slid a hand forward and palmed his balls, leaving him jerking with another sudden ambush of pleasure.

The hand shifted up slightly, and then Jack was stroking him in time to the flow of his body rolling in and retreating like waves.

“ _Jack_.” Everything else fell away. Nothing but Jack existed, nothing but Jack holding him close, nothing but Jack filling him with his body and his scent and a taste of ambrosia he’d never find anywhere else.

The final onslaught of pleasure rolled over him in an all-consuming swelling upsurge. He pushed back from the bench and gave his weight over to Jack, sinking unquestioningly against him as he tripped into oblivion. Distantly, he felt Jack shuddering against him, his name an intimate murmur in his ear, lilting with warm adoration.

Jack’s arms shifted up and around him, resting his chin on his shoulder and hugging him close as they both tried to catch their breath.

“I think the coffee is ruined.” There was barely contained laughter in Jack’s voice that made him open his eyes.

“Oh,” he said at seeing the rather messy results of their activities. The coffee had sloshed everywhere and now had an additive that very definitely didn’t belong in coffee.

Jack laughed and squeezed him tighter for a second. “Clean it up later. Right now, I want you naked in my bed.”

“Mmm,” he hummed with indecision.

Part of him was very definitely balking at the idea of leaving things in this state, but then Jack pressed a kiss to his neck, fingers tracing idle patterns over his stomach.

“Ianto.” There was a rumble of warning in Jack’s voice as if he could read his thoughts and knew he was thinking about staying to clean the bench.

“Alright, I’m coming.”

“You definitely will be in a minute,” Jack mumbled under his breath with a wicked smile.

Bloody hell. The man was unrelenting. Ianto pulled out of his hold and turned toward him.

“As long as I’m not the only one,” he replied with a perfectly straight face.

Jack arched an eyebrow at him and he could see the challenge was about to be thrown down. This time, however, he planned on getting the upper hand. He reached up and pulled his tie loose, Jack watching every movement with increasing interest. After he slid it free from the collar of his shirt, he stepped forward and took one of Jack’s hands, winding the length around his wrist and then taking his other hand. Jack let him and didn’t say a word until his hands were bound together.

“What are you up to?” Jack asked as Ianto tugged his hands and led him toward his office.

“Just making sure I get my way,” he replied with a small smile.

Jack arched a brow and then stood waiting while Ianto climbed down into the bunker first. When Jack came down, he made sure to steady him since navigating the ladder was probably a little tricky with his hands tied together.

“Now what?” Jack asked once he had his boots firmly on the floor.

He didn’t answer, instead he unwound some of the tie and then took a moment to secure it tightly to the ladder.

“Hmm, I like where this is heading,” Jack murmured, leaning in to kiss his neck.

He shivered a little, but finish making sure Jack wasn’t going to escape anytime soon. When he was done, he stepped back and put his hands on his hips, satisfied with his work.

“So?” Jack asked impatiently.

“So now I’m going to clean the kitchen in peace.” He made for the ladder as Jack gave an uncertain laugh.

“Very funny. No, really. What now?”

He hopped up onto the ladder and sent Jack a smirk. “No really, I’m going to clean up and make a coffee. Get comfortable, I might be a while.”

He bit his lip to stop from laughing at Jack’s stunned and somewhat indignant expression and quickly climbed the ladder.

“Ianto!”

When he got to the top, he paused to tug his clothes straight, enjoying his small victory.

“Ianto! Get your cute ass back here!”

“Sorry,” he called back down, barely keeping the glee from his voice. “But I really do need to get things tidied up. My boss can be a right bastard and I can’t imagine what he’d do to me if he saw the state of the kitchen.”

“Oh, I think I can imagine a few things,” Jack mumbled with a hint of danger in his voice.

“Be back in a few,” he told Jack, hurrying away as Jack shouted his name again.   

Whoops. He was probably going to pay for this later. But instead of making him worried, it sent an idle shiver through him. Yep, Jack was definitely going to get his revenge. And he knew he’d enjoy every second of it.

 

 

 


End file.
